"Please," Anakin begged, no less than seven people behind him, "Owen, we have nowhere else to go. I understand if you don't want to get on the wrong side of Republic law, but the Republic's hold on Tatooine is flimsy,"
"For the moment," Owen Lars clarified, "There's been an increase in patrols the past few weeks."
"It will only be temporary, until we find somewhere else to hide."
Owen looked over at Beru, who smiled glumly. He sighed, "Alright, I suppose it's the least I can do. You are my step-brother after all."
Anakin smiled, truly smiled for the first time since they had gone on the run, "Thanks! Thank you, Owen! I promise we'll do everything we can to help out."
"But if you get caught, here, in my home, I don't know you and never have. You're just new employees I offered room and board to. Understood?"
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Come on in, I suppose we'll have to find you some room. We weren't expecting seven people moving in."
"Sorry it's come on so unexpectedly," Luminara interjected, holding Cocaine the cat, "We promise, we'll be as out of the way as possible."
"Of course," Owen Lars made room for the family to enter but stopped Anakin. He was curious as he remembered the last time Anakin had paid him a visit, decades ago. "Hey, what ever happened to that other girl you were seeing? A Senator, right? Those older two kids look nothing like your wife. Were they hers?"
Anakin's eyes darkened and he looked away, "Padmé died. While they were infants. They never knew her."
Owen pressed his lips together, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was Palpatine who killed her, not you."
Owen nodded in sympathy, Tatooine may have been out of the loop in terms of galactic events but even they had heard about the ex-Chancellor. With that, he went to introduce himself to his sister-in-law and his nieces and nephews.
"Djarin Kenobi! Darr Viszla! Cret Abong!" the headmaster called, "You three will be sparring today!"
Djarin looked down in defeat, of course it was against them. The two biggest bullies in the entire Academy, both in size and aggression, and he was pitted against them. He saw the two boys smile at one another, knowing they were going to team up to try and beat him to a pulp, maybe even kill him. He slowly walked towards the ring, the entire Academy was watching this, their "final exam" of sorts. He saw the red-haired girl sitting towards the front. She smiled at him.
As he smiled back, he heard the instructor call, "Go!" and was immediately punched in the face by Cret. Falling flat on his back from the force of the blow, he tried to roll away but was kicked in the gut by Darr. He couldn't breathe as the pair immediately wailed on him, much to the amusement of his classmates and instructors.
"Come on Prince Kenobi! Show your Jedi tricks!" Darr jeered at him; the rest of the class all laughed as they watched, waiting on their turns to fight and prove themselves worthy of graduating, of being called Mandalorian.
Djarin tasted blood, he couldn't breathe, everything was turning black. He wasn't afraid of dying if he was being honest, no Mandalorian fears death. He was, however, outraged at the unfairness of it all. He had always been singled out by his peers, and his teachers, for his bloodline. Always pummeling him to remind him of the fact that he wasn't special, as if he didn't know that?! Even his instructors had encouraged the bullying towards him when they went out of their way to bend over backwards for anybody named Viszla, especially Darr, or even just try to stop any physical assaults outside of designated training times. It wasn't his fault his dad was a Jedi, or that his mom was a former duchess! He never would have chosen that himself!
Darr Viszla was sitting on his chest while Cret held his arms down, repeatedly slamming his fists into Djarin's face, "Come on Kenobi! I thought Jedi would fight back!"
"Alright," Djarin thought, "he wants Jedi tricks?"
Suddenly, Darr felt his throat begin to close. Cret's eyes also started to bug out as the pair released their punching bag, grabbing at their necks to try and get rid of whatever was strangling them. Pushing Darr off of him, Djarin hobbled to his feet, swaying a bit, but always holding his hand in an open, but slowly closing grip. That was when Darr began to levitate off the ground. That was when he and Cret pieced it together. Maybe they shouldn't have beckoned Djarin to use his Jedi powers.
Djarin used his free hand to wipe the blood pouring out of his mouth, "You want me to fight like a Jedi?!" he shouted, slamming his bullies into the ground hard enough to leave cracks in the duracrete around their bodies, and lifting them again, slamming them into every wall he could find, making sure to break every single bone in their bodies. "Fine. Here's a little trick I learned from watching Master Skywalker!" In a single, swift motion he closed and twisted his fist, instantly crushing all of their limbs and severing their spinal cords, letting the barely living bodies flop to the ground. All around him was pure silence. Not even bothering to look at anyone, not even the red-haired girl, he turned and left the Mandalorian Academy, or at least tried until he collapsed on the ground just outside the gates.
The instructor nodded, making a note on his scorecard. "Unconventional, but effective. B+."
The Lars family table was completely surrounded by the new residents as Beru and Luminara placed breakfast on the table. Of them, only Anakin knew a thing about moisture farming, but it was still a productive day nonetheless, one of the best Owen and Beru had had in years. That Jinn boy was a fast learner, and Owen wouldn't admit it verbally, but it warmed his heart to discover his namesake nephew. Owen Skywalker politely replied, "Thank you mom, Aunt Beru."
"Our pleasure sweetheart," Beru Lars replied, taking a seat at the crowded table next to her husband.
"In the morning I'll need to run down to Mos Espa to pick up some power converters."
"I can do that!" Jinn offered but was shot down by Anakin.
"No Jinn, your uncle will need help with the evaporators. I remember Mos Espa well enough, I can get them after we eat."
Owen the Elder smirked, while Owen the Younger was confused, "You remember Mos Espa?"
Anakin looked back down at his breakfast as if it were the most interesting thing in the galaxy, muttering a gruff, "I grew up there. I don't like talking about it."
Zotue asked, "Does it have anything to do with those graves outside?"
Anakin's breath caught in his throat. He heard the Tuskens screaming in terror as he rampaged through their village all those years ago. He still held firmly to the belief that they fully deserved it for what they did to his mother, but that didn't make it any easier to accept what he had done. Taking a swig of his water, he replied, "I will tell you this once, and only once. Do you understand?"
Every pair of eyes in his children's skulls went wide; was Dad actually going to talk about growing up?
"My mother, Shmi, and I... were slaves. I was owned by the Hutt Gardula. She lost us in a bet to a Toydarian junk trader named Watto, who whipped me every. Single. Day. For the smallest of offenses. I still have the implant in my spinal cord, where if I ever left without his permission it would explode." Even Luminara hadn't known that, as she had assumed the scar on his neck was from a battle or some injury as a Padawan.
"It's deactivated but still sits there as a reminder. It can't come out. He lost me in a bet with a Jedi named Qui-Gon Jinn."
Jinn now realized the reason he had his name.
"But he couldn't get my mother, and the Jedi Council refused to even try to buy her freedom because all they cared about was the Senate. She died ten years later, after she was kidnapped, raped, and tortured by Tuskens. So yes, Shmi, that grave out there with your name on it, is your grandmother. I had to bury her on the planet that took everything from us. It's one of an infinite number of reasons why I hate this dustball and never wanted to come back to it for the rest of my life."
"Ani..." Luminara tried to console him. She knew he was a slave, but he had never shared any details out of him, and especially not about what happened to the late Shmi Skywalker. She probably wouldn't have even known he had been a slave if she hadn't gotten it out of Ahsoka after some pressing.
"No," Anakin retorted, "It's all in the past." Deep within the confines of his skull, the Tusken children cried for their mothers while he massacred them. Quickly scarfing down the food, he stood, leaving for the door, "I'll pick up the power converters now. Nespvi, you and Zotue can get the dishes when everyone's done."
"Yes Daddy," Nespvi replied diligently.
Zotue was still too stunned to speak, only nodding silently.
Septa landed the Republic shuttle in the Dune Sea, 9 klicks from the port of Mos Espa. Sealing her helmet, she took Bil Valen and a third Shadow named Trilla Suduri with her, alongside seven stormtroopers and two flametroopers. They would search Mos Espa first before spreading to other cities across the desert planet. In orbit three Venator-class star destroyers waited to strike at any ship fleeing the system. The surrounding desert would be swept by Shadows Prosset Dibs, Masana Tide, and a squadron of scout troopers and two flame troopers. Septa utterly hated hot weather, her species was from a cold planet, and if it wasn't for the cooling fabric in her uniform working overtime, she would have had a heat stroke in seconds. It especially didn't help that the sunbaked sand was getting into even the smallest openings in her clothing, her boots, her pants legs, her sleeves, and raising her temperature even further. She was starting to envy the stormtroopers for their body gloves. Regardless, she and her team trudged towards the city while team B took to the speeder bikes and went to scour the desert for any sign of Skywalker or Unduli. Of course, throwing up more sand as they did so. How did it even get into her helmet?! Reopening her mask, she removed her helmet and violently shook it free of any sand inside and similarly vigorously tried desperately to get it off her face. She really hated sand. It would be worth it though. Unduli was close, she could feel it, and Skywalker was closer.
Anakin parked his speeder, glaring at the Jawas eyeing it before he even got out. There were a few stalls and shops with junkers trying to sell their wares. Ignoring the merchants yelling out to him, he knew full well what he was looking for, he compared the prices for the necessary power converters when he heard the familiar hiss of a lightsaber being ignited. Then more lightsabers igniting, followed by blaster rifles clicking the safety off. Anyone who was on that street quickly fled in terror from what they knew was going to be a bloodbath. Sighing in aggravation, she simply said, "I don't want to fight. I just want to live out the rest of my days in peace, is that so hard for Windu to understand?"
"You, Anakin Skywalker, want to live in peace?" a female voice scoffed, "I'll believe you're peaceful when I bring your head to the Grand Master."
Rolling his eyes, "Really? He's not even pretending to try and preserve the Republic by at least calling himself Chancellor?"
"This isn't Republic business, it's Jedi Business."
"It's idiotic."
Septa flew into a rage, leaping above her opponent to bring her saber crashing onto his hastily ignited one. Stormtroopers fired off their blaster rifles while Trilla and Bil attempted to flank him. Anakin landed a swift kick to Septa's gut, causing her to crumple for a moment with having the wind knocked out of her as Anakin ducked out of the way of the opposite sabers, which clashed into one another as he leapt back up to his feet, deflecting blaster bolts.
Septa stood back to her feet and snarled at Trilla and Bil to go in for the attack as she went straight in for a headlong assault once more, each attack being effortlessly parried by the older and far more experienced Skywalker. Had Anakin not been primarily focused on not dying, he would have wondered if she had even been born during the Clone War. He could clearly see influences of Windu's Vapaad form in her fighting style, albeit unrefined. Sloppier than his, and she was way too gleefully leaping into the Dark. Sending a strong Force Push into her, Anakin sent Septa flying into the stormtroopers as Bil Valen attempted to bring down a vertical strike, which Skywalker dodged and counter-struck to sever his right arm.
The world around him froze for what was probably only a second but to Anakin seemed an eternity as the Shadow's arm fell into the sand around them, Bil yelling out in pain. Everything he had ever felt after the War flowing back into him. The fear, the anger, the betrayal, the regret, even the self-loathing he felt for years afterwards after blaming so much on himself. Christophsis. Teth. Obi-Wan's undercover mission as a bounty hunter... so much death and destruction he directly or indirectly caused. All those years of slavery for the clones, when he had wanted to bring slavery to an end. Even Padmé. He loved Luminara, and wouldn't trade their children or the years they had spent together for anything, but hardly a day went by when he didn't think of Padmé. His first wife. His first love. Was she only dead because of how much of a target he painted on her back? How many times had he almost gotten Ahsoka killed? He glanced at his own cybernetic hand, a curse he had now given to this Shadow.
Trilla lunged at Skywalker in a perceived moment of weakness, double-bladed lightsaber whirling in an effort to sever his legs. Forewarned by the Force he jumped above her blades and landed behind her, slicing back towards her only to be blocked by her second blade. The shooting by the stormtroopers began anew, forcing him to deflect the blaster bolts and leaving him open to another leg swipe by Suduri, which made contact and caused him to fall flat on his face in agonizing pain as his thighs were both bisected. The Shadows Septa and Trilla stood about him now, lightsabers ready to decapitate him. A few stormtroopers lay dead on the ground, killed by the deflected bolts. Anakin Skywalker was filled with fear.
Fear leads to anger.
Despite his injury, he couldn't let his family be wiped out, couldn't let the Jedi be wiped out. Couldn't let his wife die again, just to sate a megalomaniac's paranoia.
Anger leads to hate.
If they wanted him to be an agent of the Dark Side, fine! He'd show them his Dark Side.
Hate leads to suffering...
For them.
Reaching out in the Force, he grabbed all their throats in a strangulating grip. He hollered with rage, allowing his pain, his fear, and everything he had ever had to bury even after joining the Reformists to fuel him. With a loud CRACK he snapped every neck in his grip save for Septa's. She, in thanks for permitting her survival for another few seconds, sent her and Bil's sabers at Anakin with the Force and severed his arm and brought down supporting pillars in the shop around them, breaking his concentration long enough for her to fall to the floor, coughing. Grabbing Bil and supporting him out, she gave the hoarse order to the flame troopers which had accompanied them, "Burn it to the ground!"
"B-but sir! Erm, ma'am, what about-"
"They're dead! Just burn it!"
"As you wish."
Across the galaxy, Ahsoka stumbled, hand pressed to her head. Lux instinctively went to hold her up, "Baby? What's wrong?"
"Anakin," she barely whisphered.
Lux was slightly confused, "Uhm. Our Anakin or-"
"I NEED THE SHIP! NOW!"
Septa watched for a moment as the flaming shop crumpled on top of the now fallen Skywalker, listening to his agonized screams. The losses were significant, but her master would be pleased. Now to meet with the B team at the ship and reutrn to Coruscant with the news of their success, at least one of the most powerful traitors was now dead. She would certainly miss Trilla, they had been good friends, but if she were to fall to anybody then the former "Chosen One" would be a worthy death.
As the flames spread across his body, Anakin screamed. All he could do was scream. Every nerve in his body was screaming. He had a decent tolerance for pain, so much so that most forms of torture were nothing to him, but this was far beyond torture. Using his single remaining limb, his now heavily damaged cybernetic hand, he reached out and tried to crawl his way out of the shop, thankfully being mostly below the toxic smoke from burning cases of droid oil and heavy metals, but his lungs far from the mercy of being spared the ever increasing heat of the air he was breathing. A shelf toppled and sent everything on it onto him, crushing his back and covering it with half-melted metal. Another screech of searing pain as he was branded by astromech parts and power converters, but still he crawled, waggling what little stumps of his legs remained to try and give himself even the slightest barely managed to make it out before everything around him went black.
When he awoke, he was laying on an operation table, with droids all around him, trying to cleanse his body of the necrotic tissue, each little brush amplifying the torture his entire system was already in. As soon as he screamed however, he was put under by an administration of anesthetic. When next he awoke, his bleary, heavily damaged eyes looked straight above him at a mask being lowered, red eye screens blinking on as it reached his face. He quietly whispered, "Padmé, Luminara, please. Help me," as the mask sealed around the apparatus surrounding his head. A final piece connected at the top of his helmet made a final seal. Heavy, mechanical breathing rang out around him. As the operating table slowly liften him upright, he saw Ahsoka sitting at the other end of the room, biting onto her knuckle as she always had whenever she was worried.
"Master?" she barely managed to say, "Anakin? Can you hear me ok Skyguy?"
He listened to the sound of his own assisted breathing for a few seconds, "Yes, Ahsoka."That wasn't his voice. "Where is Luminara? Where are my children? Are they with you? Are they safe?"
Ahsoka took a sharp, jagged breath, "I... I'm sorry, Master. By the time I got to Tatooine... they were already gone."
"No... No, it couldn't be." The makeshift medical station they were in began to quake as Anakin's new metal arms ripped off the restraints, crushing everything around him as the very Force trembled. He tried to yell out in agony, but his new support system's vocabulator did not have any process by which to understand such sounds and what came out was only a long, protracted, "Noooooooo!" He was now so trapped within himself; he couldn't even scream.